Love Is Blue
by Megan8
Summary: Sarah's story. A brief glimpse at her life in a post-Katie world. Continuation to 'Near Heaven'.


Love Is Blue

Edited 04-27-05: Took out the lyrics.

Author: Megan

Disclaimer: All things 'Once and Again' belong to the creators of the show, I guess. The song 'Love is Blue' is by Andre Popp, Pierre Cour and Brian Blackburn.

Feedback: Yes, please: Sarah's story. A brief glimpse at her life, in a post-Katie world.

Author's Notes: Continuation to 'Near Heaven' and 'Perfect in an imperfect world'. Read, oh read, them first. Sarah was getting such bad treatment in so many stories, I started feeling bad for her. This is just to try and explore, how things look from her perspective, and hopefully it'll evoke some sympathies for the poor girl, who got dealt a really bad hand. Be prepared for some angsty stuff. I plastered the 'Love is Blue' lyrics in the beginning, just because the song sets the mood. It's a pretty, pretty song, especially the Vicky Leandros version.

XXX

Funny how things happen. In a blink of an eye. One day I'm totally in love with a girl, a girl whom I thought was in love with me. And the next... there's nothing left. In walks this innocent little excuse for a human being, and I'm totally powerless against her. And her charms. How am I supposed to fight something, that looks like she couldn't even hurt a fly? Even if she wanted to.

I guess I only have myself to blame, though. Should've known better, than to think that Katie was actually capable of love. She's dumped girls before me, and she'll dump them after me. Even this Miss Perfect thing is just a phase for her. And it'll pass.

Funny, though. No matter how much I hate her now, I still miss her. Like crazy. It's like there's this great big black hole in my life. And all the light, everything, just gets sucked into it. And nothing leaves me. Nothing, but my evil verbal assaults, the ones I've honed to perfection during my pathetic little life. They leave with such ease, that I've managed to drive away what little friends I had. There weren't many. I don't like people in general.

I liked Katie, though. And she brought with her a few friends. But, like her, they're gone now. Not that I mind. Good riddance, all they did was remind me of her. And I don't need any help in that department. Everything reminds me of Katie.

Like the table at the far corner of the cafeteria. Where we sometimes used to sit, when we wanted to be alone. Just the two of us. There was a time, when Katie wanted to be alone with me.

I still sit at the table, and look at how people go about their lunch. Sometimes I see the two of them. They're always together, but everything they do, is done with precaution. Everything is done in secret. So stupid. Katie must hate hiding her feelings like that. It's so unlike her, she isn't used to hiding anything. Sure, we didn't go around parading our relationship for all the world to see, but neither did we hide it, like it was something ugly. People knew. Lots of people in school knew. And lots of them are bound to put two and two together, about Katie and her new friend. No matter how much they try to hide it.

Not that it's any of my business. But it does give me this perverse pleasure, knowing how it will end. Like standing in an intersection, waiting for an accident. It's sick, I know. Still, that's me. I'm sick. There is something very wrong in my head. And if I didn't drive away every single person from around me, someone would notice it. Or maybe the sickness is what repels them in the first place.

It's the first week back in school. And things look to be perfect in the paradise. They are laughing, and chatting away over lunch. I smile at the scene, cause I remember how it used to be with Katie. How great everything was. How easy life was with her. I didn't have to strain to get out of bed every morning. I didn't have to strain to put food in my mouth.

Katie glances my way. She has this sad look about her, whenever she sees me now. She pities me. And I'm so pathetic, I'm actually warmed by it. By the fact that she still feels something towards me. Pity is very underrated anyways, it has lots of good qualities too.

I bow my head, and lift a piece of a potato to my lips. It lingers there for a few seconds, before I engulf it. In one quick motion I swallow it down, before the taste has time to hit my brain.

God, I hope I don't develop an eating disorder. That's SO Jessie Sammler-y. Then again... if I did, maybe Katie'd love me too. Maybe, if I screwed up my life enough, she'd love me too.

I look back up, and find Katie has grown tired of me. She's again concentrated on the barbie-doll sitting across her. I can't take any more of it today, and decide I'm done with lunch.

XXX

It's not that I hate this Sammler girl. That much anyway. It's just... why did she have to take away Katie? She could probably have anyone she wanted, anyone in the whole world, and she has to go and pick my Katie. It's not nice. Of her.

Again I feel tears flood my eyes. I bury my face into my pillow to silence the sobs. They always come in small batches, the tears and the sobs. I use them up, and then generate some more by thinking of sad stuff.

Like how I won't EVER love anyone again! What's the point, if they're just along for the ride, until they find something better? I should've known better... But it's so easy to fall in love with Katie. She has this way about her, she can make you feel like the most special thing in the world. With a few words, she can lift you to such heights, you never even thought possible. And she can bring you down just as fast. I don't think she necessarily does it on purpose. I don't think she sets out to hurt people. She's like this goddess-puppy, who doesn't fully comprehend her own power. Just plays around with fire, and then looks in confusion when we mortals get burned.

There's a knock on my door, but I don't pay much attention to it. If it's important, I'm sure they'll holler. And if it's not, then I don't wanna be bothered. I force myself to stop crying though, just in case. Not that my mom would even notice. And I can't see who else it could be. My sister never knocks, and my father never visits.

There's another knock, a little louder this time. The handle rattles quietly, and the door refuses to open. Cause it's locked and all, "Sarah?", my mother calls.

Figures, "Yeah?", I grumble, trying to keep my voice even.

"Are you... okay?", she asks after a brief pause. She's been on my case a lot lately.

No, I'm not. I wanna die, mom, "Sure", I answer, and sit up. She won't leave me alone before she sees me, "What's up?"

"Could you open the door, please dear?"

Like I said, she won't leave me alone... no wait, I thought of it. I didn't say it. Who would I've said it to? There's no one around. I stand up and take a step towards the door, and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. God, I look like shit. My face is so thin, like a skull. And my skin is a sickly shade of pale. And I don't even wanna think about the rug that's plastered on top of my head.

"Sarah?", my mother's voice draws my attention away from the freak in the mirror. No wonder mom's been so worried. I look like a fucking zombie. I walk up to the door, and unlock it. Taking a few steps back, I wait for her to open it. And stare straight into her eyes, when they come to view, and I can see her face fall, "What on earth is going on, Sarah?", she demands to know. Again. Must be the hundredth time this week. I always feed some bullshit to her, and she's happy to comply.

"What?", I answer, not even blinking.

"This", she says motioning towards me, and then brushes past me, into my room, "You look awful!", she exclaims loudly.

"Why thank you mother", I say, and slowly turn around to face her again. I could say the same to you, but I won't. Cause I'm such a nice girl.

She lets my sarcastic comment slide by, and just moves on, "You look like you haven't slept in days. And yet, oddly enough, your clothes look like you HAVE slept", she shakes her head, "In them. For days."

"Shouldn't you be telling me that looks don't matter?", I answer squinting my eyes, "You know... isn't that the trend now? Telling your kids not to be obsessed about how they look? Not to judge others by how THEY look?"

Again she evades my diversion tactics, and keeps her eye on the prize, "Sarah", she says, "What is going on?", sometimes I'm amazed how good a mother she really is. And then other times, I'm amazed how profoundly blind she can be.

I sigh and shrug, "Nothing really. Just your ordinary, everyday teen depression."

"Brought on by what?", she refuses to let up.

"Stop it already!", I say, and make my way to the bed, "It's nothing I can't handle", and sit down on it.

"Sarah... you've been this way for weeks now. It's not just 'ordinary teen depression'. Why can't you just tell me what's wrong?"

The caring smile on her face nearly gets to me. I almost spill my deepest secret to her right then and there. Almost. But not quite. She doesn't know about my sordid girl-love thing. And I can't see how telling her now, that it's all over, would help anyone.

"I can handle it", I assure her, with a nod. I'm strong. I can handle it. I can, "And I promise to tell you before I decide to jump off the roof, or something", I add with a smile.

She's not too big on the morbid humor, "You shouldn't joke about something like that. It's not drugs, is it?", I roll my eyes, and gape at her, "Boys?"

Oh, sure! When has she EVER even seen me with a guy? Though, I guess that could be the problem. And it's a good excuse, "Yeah, it's guys, mom", I say, trying to sound convincing, "They suck."

"Well, maybe if you tried putting on some makeup..."

"Oh! My! God!", I jump up on my feet again, and laugh a little. I'm not having this conversation with her. No way, "I don't mean that I couldn't get them, I mean I HATE them. Literally."

"I know it can seem that way sometimes honey, but..."

"No", I state clearly. Putting an end to her reasoning, "You don't know", and again I get the urge to tell her. But it wouldn't help anything, so I bury the urge back down, where it belongs, "Look, I promised Katie I'd meet her... somewhere", the last word is nothing but a mumble, "So, can't we talk about this later?"

She just stares at me for a long time. It hurts to lie to her. Cause she is a good mother. And so clueless, it's kind of adorable, "Where is Katie? I haven't seen her in such a long time", she suddenly asks.

And I feel this pain in my chest. When I remember all the times I brought her home. And how well she got along with my mother. Katie gets along with everyone. I could actually see mom accepting my sexual deviance, if it was Katie I was with. Cause Katie is... Katie. She can charm anyone.

"She's been... busy", I answer quietly, hiding my pain safely behind a mask. It wouldn't do, if she caught a glimpse of it. Then there'd be dozens of other questions demanding to be answered. And I'm getting real sick and tired of the q and a game.

"Oh", mom voices, and gets ready to leave, "We will talk about this later Sarah", she says with the serious tone. Whatever. Just give me enough time to come up with a plausible explanation. At the doorway she stops once more, and turns around, "While you're out, you think you could pick me up a couple of books from the Booklover's?"

"Sure", might as well have something to do, other than traipsing around town.

XXX

"Here you go", the overly chippery brunette chirps, while handing me a small package. She has the most nauseating smile.

I accept it with a fake smile, "You don't want any money?", I ask, shaking my head and frowning.

"Oh, no!", the woman exclaims cheerily, "Your mother won them from a contest we held", she starts nodding her head, while the smile grows even wider. What is WRONG with her? She's like one of those people from the old Soundgarden video. Black hole sun. Disturbing, "Guess how many books we have."

The Hell? What is she, a mental institution escapee, "What? How should I know?", I ask, a little scared. I take a step back, ready to run away, if she pulls out a gun or something.

"No!", she bursts out laughing, and shakes her head, "That was the name of the contest. The person, who guessed the closest, won."

I stare at her warily for a few more seconds, "Right", whatever. That's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I can't believe my mother would participate in something like that.

"She guessed the exact right number. Isn't that weird?", the brunette goes on, before I get a chance to excape.

"Too weird", I say, and spin around hurriedly, bumping into another customer. The package falls onto the floor, and I quickly bend down to pick it up.

"I'm sorry", the customer mutters, when I stand up again. It's a woman in forties, who is keenly staring at me, "Do I know you?", she asks.

I shrug my shoulders and shake my head, "I don't know", I say, bored out of my mind, "Do you?"

"Yes!", she suddenly chirps loudly, "You were on the same school play with Jessie. I'm her mother."

Of course she is. I wanna vomit. Can't these people just leave me the fuck alone! Hasn't that blonde bitch done enough? Now she has to go and set her mother on me! It hurts too much to think about Jessie, with Katie. And when I hurt, others have to hurt too. That's the rule, "Right. Jessie. How's that thing with Katie working out for her?", I ask with a smug grin on my face. Bet she has no idea what I'm talking about.

"What thing?", she asks confused.

And I chuckle, despite the stinging in my heart, "Oh. They haven't told you about the whole... love thing? My bad."

"Excuse me?", she asks and frowns.

I take a step aside, clearing a path for her to the counter, "Consider yourself excused", I bite, and start towards the exit.

I make it all the way to the door, before I hear the brunette clerk's voice again, "What was that all about?", she asks the customer.

Jessie's mom. I shake my head and step outside. Figures I had to run into her. And she just HAD to remember me from some goddamn play! The short gratification I got from causing miss Perfect a little trouble, is gone with the winter breeze. One more evil thing I've done. I deserve to be alone, and miserable. Why would Katie love me, when all I do is hurt people. Why would anyone love me? When I don't even love myself. I hate my disgusting self.

The first steps I take are short, and slow. Then gradually they get longer, and pretty soon I start to run. Towards home. And I won't stop running until I'm there. Alone in my own room, behind locked doors. At least there I can't hurt anyone else.

Suddenly jumping off the roof doesn't sound so bad anymore.

end


End file.
